


More Than You Know

by indifferentyoongi



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Actors, Bickering, Don't let the enemies tag fool you this is still very much fluff, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Misunderstandings, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-19 14:42:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18137093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indifferentyoongi/pseuds/indifferentyoongi
Summary: Seo Changbin answered more quickly than Minho did, as if instead of listening, he waited for the exact moment she’d pause for his answer. Minho looked over, drawn to his tone. He was bright, clearly confident. Changbin turned to him and slipped his hands in his pockets. Cool and casual. He gave Minho a nod, a “we formed a band when we were twelve, and now we’re performing a sold out show, are you ready?” kind of nod.Minho answered with a flick of his eyebrow, practiced and precise, though usually employed on Woojin at midnight, when he was tired and unwilling to say what he really wanted aloud. Though the expression was the same, what he hoped to express was wholly different: Minho knew only the challenge Hoyoung faced to get Joowon to agree to help him.“I don’t trust that look in your eye,” Changbin began.“I’m not trusting you to trust my eyes, just my intentions.”“I don’t trust that either.”__Or, Minho gets cast as the lead, Changbin as his closest ally, but their off-screen chemistry is anything but friendly.





	More Than You Know

**Author's Note:**

> Back in November, my lovely friend Gabi linked me to [this gif ](http://www.twitter.com/lee_rabbit_/status/1060109441213681669), and I thought, this is an actors au in the making. 
> 
> Well, I made the actors au.
> 
> As usual, I have written about a topic I know absolutely nothing about, so entertainment industry stays...please be kind to me :")
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

_ Please arrive at the studio by 9am for screen testing. Prepare the kitchen scene attached to this email, and be prepared to spend at least two hours testing with those called back for Joowon. If you have any questions or concerns, please call me using the number in the signature of this message. I look forward to seeing you test tomorrow. _

Minho reread the email three times before finally saving the attachment to his iPad. He never went into an audition not hoping to land a role, but getting called back for this character in particular—this script, this director, this drama, really—sent a scattering of stress-scratching across his body. He scraped his nails along the back of his neck instead of behind the ears of the impatient cat sitting in his lap. 

The character he auditioned for was his age, but Minho felt sixteen again, like he was trying out for the school musical with a voice too quiet for the confidence he felt when he danced with his friends in the garage of the house at the end of the cul-de-sac. He was given a role in the chorus, stayed in the back, made sure his pitchy notes weren’t heard over the cohesive collective. It’d taken him over a decade of stepping forward, commercial by extra by second lead, to slow down and speak and shine. Now, he only practiced an old dance routine, worn into his muscles like footsteps across patchy grass, when he had time in between filming days.

Maple meowed, lurching Minho out of his memories. “Are you going to help me practice, huh?” He dug his knuckle in what he always worried was an uncomfortable way into Maple’s ear, but she only purred louder. “I would ask you to help me run lines, but you’re a bit too demanding to play Joowon, I think.”

Minho was used to chemistry tests with his romantic leads, and as he began to highlight his lines with the hand that wasn’t preoccupied with Maple, he reminded himself that the stolen glances and cheek-cramping smiles wouldn’t be necessary for this audition. 

Maybe it was the fact that this wasn’t a romance that drove both desire and doubt into Minho. He didn’t dislike his previous work; he was grateful, in fact, for the reputation he’d built over the years. He was known for his comedic timing, that single look that conveyed more than a line ever could, the complexity he brought to characters that otherwise might have just been the young, rich, asshole CEOs of the popular dramas. When his manager and best friend, Jisung, forwarded him a role that was already so much the opposite of that, not a choice he had to make in each scene and with each line delivery, but so inherently foiled against the industry standard, he read no more than the character description before sending Jisung the go-ahead to submit his resume for the audition. 

_ Jung Hoyoung: twenty-seven, single father, works as a high school teacher when his daughter enters the first grade, quickly developing what a therapist describes as the beginnings of an anxiety disorder. Realizing a system that creates an employee of a child is broken, Hoyoung enlists the help of the bright but skeptical guidance counselor, Choi Joowon, to petition the school board, a battle that will test his relationship with his daughter, his new friend, and his love of education. _

Minho took a deep breath. He was ready to push outside of his comfort zone, to surprise himself and perhaps his fans, too. With a meow from Maple, a congratulatory text from Jisung with five too many exclamation points, and a reminder from his calendar that he had to be at the production company in twenty-four hours, Minho began to memorize his lines. 

***

“Lee Minho, Seo Changbin, get ready. You’re up next.” 

Minho snapped his attention around to the other Hoyoungs and Joowons waiting to enter the ominously labeled ‘do not enter unless accompanied’ door somehow perfectly positioned within eyesight of the holding lobby. Unfortunately, everyone turned toward the voice, willing the first syllable to be theirs, and Minho was no surer of who he was testing with than when he arrived. Seo Changin wasn’t a name he recognized, and not a face amongst the twelve actors remaining looked familiar, or similar, he noted. The layers of bb cream and eyebrow powder he was used to seeing at auditions, where actors tried forcing the directors to see them in the role instead of imagining it, were mostly abandoned; Minho felt grateful that he listened to Jisung’s suggestion to only spot conceal. 

It was just fifteen minutes later that Minho was finally accompanied across the hall and before a long table. There were at least double the eyes on him today than in his first audition. While he didn’t need to turn on his flirtatious charm with Changbin, who turned out shorter and more angular than Minho expected, he was reminded, as he made the daunting journey to the tape marked on the floor, that auditions were exactly like first dates. A familiar fluttering danced across his abdomen. With every step, he answered an unanswered question from the panel; with a smile, he asked just one question in return: am I who you want?

“Thank you to you both for coming in again today,” director of  _ For Today and Tomorrow _ , Lee Nayoung, greeted. “We’ll run through once to get an initial feeling, and then I’ll ask you to run again once you’ve found your footing. I’ll either dismiss you or have you stick around at the end. Okay?” 

Seo Changbin answered more quickly than Minho did, as if instead of listening, he waited for the exact moment she’d pause for his answer. Minho looked over, drawn to his tone. He was bright, clearly confident. Changbin turned to him and slipped his hands in his pockets. Cool and casual. He gave Minho a nod, a “we formed a band when we were twelve, and now we’re performing a sold out show, are you ready?” kind of nod. Changbin was asking questions, too. 

Minho answered with a flick of his eyebrow, practiced and precise, though usually employed on Woojin at midnight, when he was tired and unwilling to say what he really wanted aloud. Though the expression was the same, what he hoped to express was wholly different: Minho knew only the challenge Hoyoung faced to get Joowon to agree to help him. 

“I don’t trust that look in your eye,” Changbin began.

“I’m not trusting you to trust my eyes, just my intentions.”

“I don’t trust that either.”

***

Both Minho and Changbin were asked to head back to the lobby, and before the sun traveled highest in the sky, tested with two other actors each. Minho started to suspect that being forced to wait with five other guys spread awkwardly across a silent room was a test in itself. Not being sent home to hear the news, either good or bad, seemed to be yet another change he must adjust to. 

As his fingers fidgeted away in his lap, Minho felt grateful, for once, for the barrage of text messages from Jisung. He only had to wait the time in between responses to give his hands a purpose other than assaulting him with a visual representation of the nerves he felt in every corner of his body. 

**Han Jisung:** **  
** Who did you like reading with the most? 

**Lee Minho:** **  
** Park Jaeyoung 100%. It might have just been because he was third and I was more comfortable at that point, too, but we vibed off of each other really well. Most awkward with Changbin, medium whatever with Taeyong, chemistry fireworks with Jaeyoung 

**Han Jisung:** **  
** Damn, you almost always make a dumb joke and change the subject when I ask about the audition, you must really be out of your mind waiting 

**Lee Minho:** **  
** You’re an ~industry insider~ you tell me why they’re keeping us. I mean they’re not going to come out and just point at two of us and make the other two feel like shit right?

**Han Jisung:** ****  
Anything’s possible.    
Did you strike up a conversation with someone? I know you hate being awkward with people   
Get over yourself and go chat    
Lee Minho?   
AM I TEXTING THE ONE AND ONLY JUNG HOYOUNG?!   
Or did they point at one of the other guys   
You’re really leaving me on a cliffhanger   
I can’t read the tone here I don’t know if it’s okay for me to be joking or not   
There’s no way you couldn’t have just sent me a quick text before leaving    
You’re the worst   
WAIT PRODUCTION JUST CALLED ME YOU ASSHOLE    
WHY ARENT YOU SAYING ANYTHING   
CONGRATS IDIOT 

“I was driving,  _ you’re _ the idiot,” Minho greeted as he toed off his shoes just inside of Jisung’s house.

Luckily, he hadn’t taken but a step away from the doorway before Jisung barreled into him with a suffocating hug. Minho braced himself with a hand against the door jam and smiled into Jisung’s hair despite the dramatic affection. He was used to it by now, anyway. 

Once Jisung forced his arms away from Minho’s body, the excitement restrained from his limbs made its way to his eyes. “I ordered celebratory noodles. They’ll be here soon.”

“And if I hadn’t come over, you would have just eaten them yourself?” 

“The details aren’t important, hyung.” Jisung grabbed Minho’s wrist and dragged him into the living room. “Sit down. Tell me everything.”

Minho rolled his eyes. “They already called you, what else is there to tell?”

“You know, Chan’s clients take  _ him _ out to dinner and gush about how helpful he is and how his advice helped them in the audition.”

Placing his feet on Jisung’s coffee table and his hands behind his head, Minho allowed his lids to shut for just a moment before he cast a sideway glance at his best friend. 

“Ask away. What do you want to know?”

A satisfied smile replaced Jisung’s pout. He asked about the pointing (no one pointed; they took each actor into the casting room to tell them the news), the feedback (no, they didn’t tell him his blinking was distracting), the scene (no, they gave no blocking instruction), and lastly, the actor chosen to play Choi Joowon. 

“No, it wasn’t Park Jaeyoung. I was called into the room last, and Seo Changbin was already leaning over the table looking at a script. They gave him the part right before me.” 

“And in your gut you didn’t think it was going to be him?”

“Nope,” Minho admitted. Changbin’s reading of Joowon’s character was more serious than he expected. He thought maybe the vibrancy in Changbin’s tone before the scene started was an effort to make the panel see him as Joowon right when he walked through the door rather than waiting for the first exchange. It took Minho two lines too long to adjust to the hardened delivery, and he didn’t like playing catch up. By the end of their second read through, Hoyoung was trying to convince Joowon through gritted teeth and cutting remarks, lines that felt instead like the comfort of aged friendship upon meeting someone new when read with Jaeyoung. 

Minho already had a three point plan to read through his script that night to see what the casting team saw in their dynamic that he could continue to replicate, both with Changbin and with the other actors he’d now read with as part of the remaining auditions.

“There’s the sister, the daughter, and the principal they want you to come in for,” Jisung confirmed with his laptop propped on his knees, bare feet tucked under his thighs. “We’ll have the table read for the first episode on the fifth.”

Minho nodded. He knew all of this, had it confirmed before he left the studio; a printed scheduled wedged in between the pages of the first episode’s script sat on the front seat of his car. But he let Jisung continue on, as he usually did. In a week, when his life was filled with only lines, Minho would thank his friend for keeping up with all that he shut out—from dates to deadlines to tweets to take out he’d inevitably forget to eat. 

But for tonight, as the ring of the doorbell echoed off the high ceilings of Jisung’s living room, Minho would eat, and he would laugh, and he’d leave all of his other worries for tomorrow. 

***

“Great work today, Minho,” Nayoung complimented. “You’re making our jobs a lot easier by being here. One more day of callbacks and then we’ll be all set.” 

“How is it not a pleasure to spend all day playing with little kids?” Minho replied sincerely. He expected to feel unsure of himself reading across from potential colleagues when he wasn’t sure he understood Hoyoung fully yet, but the memory of seven year old Siyeon giggling at a joke Minho made as Hoyoung and showing her crooked front teeth with cheeks just as wide when he tried his hand at his own caused a bubble of laughter to travel through his shoulders. He had fun with everyone who came in today, but he would be lying if he didn’t hope Siyeon would get the part.

“I’m guessing you don’t have any kids of your own that the media has just conveniently overlooked for the first part of your career?” she asked. 

Minho wondered if his director sensed it too, that this is the beginning of a  _ second half. _ Maybe he had ‘please be kind to me, I’m trying something new’ written across his forehead. 

“I have a cat,” he answered. “She has her own instagram account.”

Nayoung laughed, the lines at the corners of her eyes crinkled more deeply than Siyeon’s, but the sound was satisfying to Minho all the same. She slipped her glasses off of her nose and onto the mess of curls tied at the top of her head. “You play a natural father, Minho. Your cat is very lucky to have you.”

“I’ll let Maple know you think that. I’m not sure she agrees.”

She left him with another small chuckle and a sweet hand on his arm. Minho took a deep breath. He could feel the comfort of finding his place settle in his chest and radiate outward. He gave a wave to the staff remaining in the audition room and headed to the hallway stretching past the holding lobby and out to the parking lot. 

“Lee Minho!” 

He stopped halfway to the door. Behind him, emerging from the lobby Minho was sure was empty, was Seo Changbin. He stood, grinning, in denim jeans and an oversized sweatshirt. He looked small, from the distance and from the clothes. Minho was rooted still, in his surprise and his uncertainty. For two moments too long, he paused, and it was Changbin who walked down the length of the hallway to meet him. 

“Hey,” Minho recovered. “Were you reading with callbacks, too?”

“Mmhmm. It’s weird to be here for an audition and not be the one nervous out of their mind.”

_ I was still nervous _ , Minho thought, but he nodded politely to his co-star and allowed the hunger pains in his stomach to steer the quick conversation to a close: “Well, if I don’t see you around here beforehand, I’ll definitely see you for the table read.”

Changbin’s boxy smile found its way to his lips a beat too late, and the, “Yeah, absolutely, man, I’ll see you then” didn’t sound nearly as hopeful of another chance meeting as the words suggested. Minho didn’t care, frankly, as he turned finally toward his car, where dreams of black bean noodles and using a different colored highlighter to mark lines in his script ultimately laid. 

It wasn’t until several hours later, with pink highlighter in hand, that Minho was reminded of his brief, bizarre encounter with Seo Changbin. 

He usually kept his phone on silent while he worked, but tonight, he must have been too engrossed in the preparations for the principal callback because a notification from Jisung dragged him disappointingly from his reverie. 

_ You didn’t tell me you guys were friends _ the text read. There was a picture attached, a screenshot from instagram, and Minho had to push his glasses further up his nose to see how a selfie of Changbin pertained to him at all. 

BinnieBinnie the user read, and the small icon in the corner appeared to be Changbin in a hat. Minho instinctively clicked on his face, wanting to see the entire profile, before remembering Jisung’s phone storage was ninety percent filled with screenshots—moments and receipts and memories he swore he would always need at his fingertips. 

Minho zoomed in on the selfie instead. Changbin grinned at the camera, just a small tilt of his lips rather than the toothy farewell Minho had last seen from him. He was about to text Jisung back asking what the hell he meant by  _ friends _ since they had barely spoken to each other outside of their chemistry test, but that was when he noticed that lining the bottom of the photo was the familiar diamond pattern of the carpet in the hallway they’d run into each other in earlier in the day. Sure enough, in the farthest corner of the photo was the back of Minho’s head as he had left for his car. 

_ Are you excited? _ the caption read, which didn’t surprise Minho. With the announcement of the drama’s filming and the lead roles filled, all those related to the project were posting regularly to promote interest in the show. Minho’s own instagram was more active the past few days than in all of the last five months combined. More surprising were the tags boldly below the photo: _ #EvenTheBackOfHyungsHeadIsPretty #Unfair _ . 

Filled by an irrational fear that Jisung somehow photoshopped this to fuck with him, Minho opened the app himself and searched for Changbin’s username. The selfie was BinnieBinnie’s most recent post, and clearly an outlier in his otherwise faceless feed. There was just one other person amongst the landscape, coffee, and dog—of course he was a dog person--photos, and the selfie was so alarmingly perfect that Minho clicked on their profile first, forgetting about his initial task. Hwang Hyunjin, the bio read. Actor. Minho filed that name away for later and refocused on the post Jisung had sent him. The screenshot, it appeared, was not a fake.  _ #EvenTheBackOfHyungsHeadIsPretty #Unfair _ stared back at him. He knew why Jisung would assume they’d gotten close. Besides the obvious use of ‘hyung,’ Minho couldn’t imagine posting a picture of Changbin with how little they knew of each other. 

He clicked to add a comment, not willing to just  _ sit _ with the knowledge that the photo existed, but a more attractive alternative came to mind. 

Two can play that game. 

Minho left a like instead, navigated back to Jisung’s text, and typed “Getting closer everyday :)”

**Han Jisung:** ****  
Why does that sound so ominous?   
Minho explain   
LEE MINHO HYUNG   
I hate you

***

“We welcome all of you to our first episode,” Nayoung announced to the sound of applause filling every available space in between and around the cast gathered at a long conference table. Minho sat at the center of one side—a place not unfamiliar to him, but today, he felt like he sat on a throne, at thirteen, facing what used to be his father’s kingdom and was now all his. But that was a different drama, wasn’t it, so he blinked and centered himself back at the table. 

Changbin sat to his right, Siyeon, he was happy to see, was on his left, and the actor cast to play the show’s antagonist, the school’s principal, sat in Minho’s seat mirrored on the other side of the table. Kim Minkyun was the only member of the cast Minho already knew. After reading with him for his callback, in awe that the same man he watched lead the drama with his first ever speaking role seven years ago was standing beside him, not in front of him, Minho was prepared to strike up a conversation like they had been close friends during that time rather than distant co-workers, just to give himself some sense of buoyancy in this new sea of uncertainty. He didn’t have to pretend much, though, when Minkyun approached him in the holding lobby with a hand to his shoulder, congratulating him on having come this far in the time since they’d last worked together. Minkyun’s kind eyes across the table, so very different from the ones red and enraged as he yelled at him in the callback reading, pulled a deep breath from Minho. 

When the room quieted, Nayoung took a calming breath of her own, and she beamed at her cast, pride and anticipation preparing them all for the months ahead clear across her face, before beginning to narrate. 

“Scene one. Hoyoung’s classroom. Zoom in on the chalkboard.”

***

Minho didn’t have to make an excuse to put his revenge plan into action once the table read ended. In addition to the press outlets clicking away throughout the meeting, the cast eagerly gathered for pictures to post on their own social media accounts. By the time the last group shot was taken, Minho had cycled through all of his go to poses—peace signs, flower petals, cheek-poking, winking, smiling with teeth, smiling without teeth, saluting with two fingers, holding the same two fingers behind the head of the person next to him. 

The final photo he took before finally leaving the conference room was a simple selfie featuring the smile he reserved for his fanbase—mouth pulled wider and cheeks pulled higher than he dared in any photoshoot. He waited until Changbin, packing his bag just behind him, was in frame, and he clicked. 

Minho must not have consciously registered his instinctual flip of the unmute button upon the meeting’s closing, because his camera app’s shutter sound was an unmistakable but unintentional addition to the room’s dwindling chatter. 

He watched from his phone’s screen as Changbin turned at the sound, noticed the photo opportunity, and leaned down to add his own face and peace sign to the frame. Minho turned to stare at the Changbin beside him rather than the one on the screen, and it was the second shutter sound rather than his eyes that told him Changbin reached his arm up to take their picture. 

“Hyung,” was all the warning Minho got before Changbin was pushing his chin back toward the phone. The snarl at Changbin now not only calling him hyung but also thinking he had any right to  _ touch his face _ juxtaposed the outright glee in Changbin’s smile. 

The fans seemed to notice it, too. 

When Minho decided to post all three photos rather than just the one with Changbin unsuspectingly in the background, his comments were flooded with accusations that they were a new tom and jerry duo. They weren’t a  _ duo _ at all, but his failure to actually embarrass Changbin had Jisung texting him congratulations for playing so nicely with his co-stars when usually it took him several weeks for his mask of cordial artifice to turn to genuine trust. 

“Shouldn’t you be  _ more _ relaxed after the table read? Why are you so tense?” Woojin asked later that night, arm slung across Minho’s stomach, head resting on his chest. “You don’t usually call me over on such short notice.”

Woojin rubbed calming circles into Minho’s thigh, and Minho sighed, as he often did when Woojin was in his bed. It was true that usually it was a day ahead when he dialed Woojin’s number, asked if he was in Korea that month—Minho still refused to forgive him for touring Europe last summer. How dare he prioritize his band over his part-time lover and full-time friend—if he was willing to eat days old race at 2am and fall into his sheets. It was a system that worked well for both of them: Minho didn’t have time around filming to date anyone, and Woojin was hyper-focused on his career, unconcerned with the thought of settling down. So they settled into each other, on late nights with cool air from Minho’s ceiling fan blowing across their bare backs. 

Tonight Minho hadn’t given the courteous 24-hour notice. He’d already eaten all the rice from the stove, and the clock only read 9pm. But Woojin came anyway. 

“I don’t even really know,” he admitted. “Everything’s going okay, I’m just afraid of screwing up this opportunity, I guess.” 

Propping his chin up so he was looking at Minho instead of the whirring fan blades, Woojin looked over Minho’s face seriously. “Someone didn’t serve you an opportunity, Lee Minho. You got this role because you are the best person to play him. There’s nothing to lose, no one to disappoint, because you  _ are _ him. You’re the best version of Hoyoung there is. You’ve got to stop putting so much pressure on yourself.”

The light kiss Woojin left on his shoulder stretched a grin across his face.

“There you go. You’re not cute when you pout.”

“That’s a fucking lie and you know it. I’m cute all the time,” Minho retorted just before a pillow hit him in the forehead. 

“You need this kind of confidence when you’re filming, you egghead.”

With no other preamble than Woojin’s words, Minho’s mind supplied him with the sound of Changbin’s easy laugh during their chemistry test together. He’d looked so at ease, in his element, even though Minho didn’t know anything else about him, like what made  _ him _ sigh at 2am. Or well, 9pm. 

He snorted to himself, amused by the sudden realization that yeah, it’d probably be a two year old vine compilation or something equally dumb, and then leaned over to brush his lips against Woojin’s, thanking him for always coming over when called and never letting him sell himself short, even when that was sometimes what felt most comfortable, even more than Woojin’s weight against him under the duvet. 

“Are you going to come visit me on set when you have a day off, or what?” Minho asked as he reached over to turn out the lamp on his night stand. 

“I’ll think about it…Minho I can feel you pouting, it doesn’t matter that I can’t see you.  _ Yes _ , I’ll come see you, now go to bed before that pretty mouth of yours stays like that forever.”

Minho laughed, buried himself against Woojin’s chest, and closed his eyes, despite it being far too early for bed.

***

Minho allowed Woojin’s words to propel him into the first week of filming. This routine, at least, felt familiar—chatting with the witty women who did his hair and makeup, blocking and rehearsing each scene, the sound of the clapperboard snapping shut just before the sound of Nayoung’s voice yelling “Action!” pulled him into Hoyoung’s world, where he cared for his students and his daughter the best he could, even if he doubted that he was taking care of himself, and certainly not the innocent eyes that watched him with only trust and confidence. 

It was difficult not to feel comfortable, truthfully, when he spent most of his time with Siyeon and the teenagers playing Hoyoung’s students. Time in between takes, as the crew set up the next shot, was spent with Minho playing games he’d long since forgotten from his school days. He didn’t have to let Siyeon win as they clapped so quickly and in sequences that made Minho wonder whether the coordination gifted from his dancing background was a mirage, and when Changbin walked by the set decorated with stars and planets for Siyeon’s bedroom, Minho wanted to yell  _ I’m more in control of my body than this, I swear! _ Not that it mattered for any kind of spectacular reason, especially when Hoyoung and Joowon weren’t meant to be anything but acquaintances at this point in the show. 

Minho always found himself mimicking his on-screen relationships off-screen, no matter the role or the genre. He never spent much time with antagonists on set, not in the easy way he had with Siyeon today, and he’d be lying if he didn’t admit he fell just a little bit in love with every leading lady he’d starred opposite in his time in the romance drama world. He knew why fans were fixated on tv and movie couples: the spark they saw wasn’t all fabricated, wasn’t weaved only out of the narration sewn in the script. He gave a part of himself to each and every character, every love, every relationship. Sometimes, he wondered if he was only made up of the remnants of every person he’d ever played and every relationship he’d ever portrayed on tv rather than the man he actually was. Or if that distinction was useless, as if this wasn’t all one in the same anyway, like the alternating patches in his grandmother’s favorite quilt which together made up something warm, something real. 

All he knew for sure was that whoever he was, whatever he was made up of, had no desire to get closer to Changbin than his character was or closer than it took to snap a selfie with Changbin’s sharp chin in the background.

He didn’t have much of a choice, though, when Changbin plopped down next to him in the craft services tent, plate piled high with with beef and rice.

“If you’re going to keep stalking me for creepshots, you could at least follow me on Instagram,” he said as way of greeting. He smiled with his teeth, but Minho didn’t mistake the edge to his voice.

“The picture you posted of me laughing yesterday says hello, Seo Hypocrite,” Minho threw across the small table before returning his eyes to the script laying beside his plate.

“That was a picture of me, thanking my fans for the coffee support truck that morning.  _ You _ just happened to be in my shot, thank you very much.” 

“Yeah, right.” Minho rolled his eyes. “So why haven’t you followed  _ me _ , then?”

Changbin paused long enough that Minho had no choice but to look up from his noodles.

“Huh?” he finally responded.

“You said I could follow you, at least, but the same goes to you, doesn’t it? Fans are probably getting suspicious that we keep posting about each other with no other interactions.”

“And whose fault is that?”

“Yours,” Minho said simply. 

Changbin gritted his teeth. Minho watched as his jaw tightened before he spoke. “I’ve done nothing but try to get close to you from the moment we read together and all you’ve done is ignore me except for making sure my head is carefully placed in all your stupidly handsome selfies.”

“You’re the one who started the picture thing but that’s not nearly as important as you thinking I’m handsome.”

“Don’t act like you don’t know you have that face.”

“But I like knowing  _ you know _ I have this face.”

Changbin leaned forward suddenly, more quickly than Minho could have expected if him moving at all had even crossed his mind, and the playful tone readied on his lips evaporated. 

He rolled his eyes once more, leaned back the furthest he could in his chair to put distance between him and Changbin, whose jumper—Joowon’s jumper—hung dangerously close to his food. 

“Can I help you?” was the only response Minho managed. 

“Just wanted to see those pretty eyes up close, is all, since you always put those stupid filters on your pictures.”

Minho blinked rapidly in succession, brought his hands in a flower pose along his cheeks for just a moment before pushing Changbin’s face back to his side of the table. 

“I’ll follow you if it means you promise to keep five feet of distance between us at all times.”

“I’ve never been more sure I could keep a promise in my life,” Changbin replied, easy smile flashing for just a moment before he shoved a piece of beef into his mouth. 

Minho scoffed, grabbed his plate, and decided he’d rather eat in his boring trailer than have to listen to Changbin’s mouth sounds, food-related or otherwise. 

***

The next selfie Minho uploaded only had Changbin’s arm in the background, an arm that could have belonged to anyone, though he doubted either Changbin or his fans would let this one slide, and his face wasn’t sprinkled with cat whiskers or stars or a cute character. He was as bare faced as he could be with a layer of makeup on his skin; he almost wanted to message Changbin to ask if he was happy. 

He didn’t have to, though, when he got the notification for a comment from BinnieBinnie. 

_ handsome >:| _

And then came the notification for Jisung’s text, attached with screenshot, of BinnieBinnie’s comment. 

And then came the notifications for the likes of BinnieBinnie’s comment.

And then Minho turned off his phone, picked up Maple, and went to bed.

***

_ “I don’t trust that look in your eye.” _

_ “I’m not trusting you to trust my eyes, just my intentions.” _

_ “I don’t trust that either.” _

Although it’d been weeks since Minho and Changbin last had this exact conversation, as a set of unsure Hoyoung and Joowon, and now they repeated the same lines with certainty of who their characters were and the convictions that they fought for, they both looked at their phones while something outside of their pay grade was fixed on a camera. Minho thought, as he endured the awkward silence that encased them, the white noise of the bustling set unable to penetrate where they stood, that he maybe knew less about Changbin now than he knew then. In their audition, he heard that bright tone and saw that wide smile and thought that Changbin was vibrant, eager, confident. But he hadn’t been any of those things toward Minho. 

And he knew that if he was honest with himself, this was the moment where they had to crawl out from under the blanket of tension that covered them whenever the were on set together. Some days, it was wrapped so tightly Minho felt like he was suffocating. On other days, like today, they had a bit more space to breathe, but the weight was ever-present. 

Just a few more days of filming and Joowon was going to agree to help Hoyoung, was going to spend more time drafting up proposals in Hoyoung’s living room and eating his unexpectedly delicious dinners, would befriend his daughter and fall easily into their lives. As soon as Hoyoung and Joowon softened, Minho would, too; he’d want to feel that comfort, that familiarity. This wasn’t a romance, but he hoped to love Changbin, too. 

So, he slipped his phone back into his pocket. 

“What food do you think I most resemble,” Minho asked. 

Changbin’s eyebrows scrunched together in a way that was not unfamiliar to Minho.  _ You’re weird, hyung _ , he heard Jeongin’s voice say, as if he were standing right behind him rather than hundreds of miles away, still living in the town where they went to college.

Minho lifted an eyebrow of his own—a challenge to play along. Perhaps he had learned  _ one _ thing about Changbin so far: he loved a challenge. 

“Cheese,” Changbin answered, and Minho smiled because his challenge was accepted.

He frowned once the answer actually registered.

“Cheese? What kind of cheese?”

“Doesn’t matter. Any kind. Because there’s those of us who are intolerant to dairy—“ Changbin raised a thumb to his chest, “—who can only stand you in very small doses, and there are those who will think you inherently make anything and everything better: a picture, a cast list, a red carpet, a craft services spread.”

“Ah, so is that why you started including the back of my head in your pictures? The cheese effect?”

“Wow, you’re never going to let this go, are you?”

“No, what I really won’t let go is that  _ you started all of this _ . You conveniently forget that whenever I call you on it.”

Instead of responding, Changbin clutched his stomach and doubled over his knees, groaning a sound unpleasant. 

Minho almost asked if he was okay, almost glanced around the studio to find the first aid tent, before he caught on to Changbin’s joke. 

He didn’t acknowledge the lactose intolerance charade, Changbin would right himself; instead, he grabbed his phone back out of his pocket. Halfway through typing a text to Jisung, he heard the groaning stop. 

**Lee Minho:** **  
** I hate you for getting me this role

**Han Jisung:** **  
** Well, we both know that’s not true, so what’s up, dramatic pants?

**Lee Minho:** **  
** Seo Changbin is annoying

**Han Jisung:** ****  
You’re annoying. You’re a match made in heaven   
Well, almost. He’s actually not annoying at all   
I had dinner with him just last weekend   
And he was delightful

**Lee Minho:** ****  
I’m revoking your best friend card   
Why didn’t I know about this?

**Han Jisung:** **  
** Because it was a business meeting, not a friend meeting

**Lee Minho:** **  
** I’m also your client. Entitled to business knowledge, too

**Han Jisung:** **  
** Want to make out with me so you can be entitled to my dating life, too?

**Lee Minho:** ****  
1) Don’t be gross   
2) Stop avoiding the topic   
3) What business do you have with Seo Changbin?

Minho peaked at his co-star while he waited for Jisung to type. He was tossing a rubber ball with one of the extras from Siyeon’s class. Minho hadn’t noticed their laughter, hadn’t realized the tension blanket only covered him now. 

**Han Jisung:** ****  
His friend (boyfriend? I didn’t ask) is looking for a new agent    
Apparently he thought so highly of you and your professionalism that he called me   
To see if I’d be interested in his friend   
So he might be annoying, but he respects you   
And is good for my business   
So play nice, Lee Minho 

**Lee Minho:** ****  
Did he actually say he thought highly of me   
Or are you inferring    
Because I’d bet my left arm that he’s never said one nice thing about me   
To you or anyone else

**Han Jisung:** ****  
He said, and I quote:   
“When I realized Hyunjinnie needed a new agent, I thought of you first, since working with Minho hyung showed me just how well you manage your talent. He’s not only a naturally good actor, but I can tell just how hard he’s worked to get where he is. He even reads his script while he eats.”   
He laughed shyly after that last point   
I thought it was kind of cute    
And that you all were friends?

Minho looked up from his phone once again. He watched as Changbin allowed the ball the kid tossed to hit him in the chest and threw his head back in pretend-pain. The kid laughed and raced to pick up the ball that certainly shouldn’t be bouncing around the wires and camera tracks of the studio floor. But Changbin didn’t seem to care. 

He looked bright and vibrant. And apparently he thought Minho was talented and hard working. And maybe Minho knew nothing at all. Even less than the nothing he thought he knew before. 

***

Minho always appreciated filming in Seoul: he didn’t have to live out of a suitcase or sleep with shitty hotel comforters, he didn’t have to entrust Maple’s care to Han Jisung, he could always count on Woojin being just a phone call away, he could always count on a dinner that was more nutritious than what was served at craft services each night. A local perk he was usually too exhausted to get much use out of was his gym, located just five minutes from his home and fifteen from the studio where the bulk of the drama was being filmed. He was more likely to grab out the mat and medicine ball stored under his bed than to fight mirror magnets for the one weight bench where he gave himself permission to think about something, anything other than dialogue.

Tonight, though, with news of a snowstorm starting at 11pm, Nayoung dismissed everyone from set, and Minho drove right past the turn for his driveway. He always kept a gym bag in his trunk, and he knew that there were no group classes on Thursdays, so not even a juice head taking his bench could weigh down the lightness from his step as he walked from his car to the front door. He asked the ridiculously fit trainer who worked the front desk for the keys to the group exercise room, where there were mirrors and a speaker system he could hook his phone up to, and he didn’t offer even a glance to the gym goers all desperately trying to get in a workout before getting trapped inside of their homes by the snow. 

After a quick stretch, Minho scrolled to a song he first downloaded when he was fifteen. Time dancing was no longer creative like it had been when he first created this choreography. Then, it had felt like every nerve ending was firing with every sequence he added, like with every pop he was imagining himself anew, imagining himself apart from the insecure kid he no longer wanted to be. In reality, that took him much longer, and maybe as he allowed the movements etched into his muscles, like memories of younger joints and slower fatigue, to flow from him, he was still acting out the same process: the more unsure of himself he felt on set, the more likely he was to slip into the group exercise room, to remind himself that he was once in the back of the chorus and now he was here. 

He escaped into the rhythm of the routine for as long as his cardio endurance allowed, and not even the unexpected sight of Seo Changbin in a shirtless t-shirt and track pants staring at him from the doorway took him out of his reverie. Tonight, he wasn’t Lee Minho, insecure actor taking his uncertainty out on the easiest target. He was a hyung.

So, in a haze of endorphins and nostalgia, he waved. And he smiled. And he motioned for Changbin to join him. 

And Changbin did. 

“I’ve never seen you at this gym before,” he greeted with hesitance clear in his voice. 

Minho walked over to grab his water bottle, nestled in his gym bag near the door, and took a seat against the cool, painted cinder block. Changbin stood above him, hands fidgeting with the him of his shirt.

“I’ve had a membership for years, actually. Maybe we’ve crossed paths before and didn’t realize it?”

“I think I would have noticed.” Changbin lowered himself down across from Minho, legs stretched out in front of him. 

“Yeah?” Minho teased, as he usually did. He hoped, just for tonight, in this space meant only for relieving stress rather than fostering it, that this didn’t end in an argument. 

Changbin did roll his eyes, but the mild kick he sent towards Minho’s knee was only playful. “I mean, I’ve seen your other work, and I would have recognized if the nation’s heartthrob was lifting weights beside me.”

“I honestly would not have expected you to have those shoulders,” Minho found himself saying. It was a non-sequitur, but the topic of weights and the sight of Changbin sleeveless and the ice water hitting his tongue combined to dissolve his brain-to-mouth filter. 

Changbin grinned, wide and genuine. “I honestly would not have expected you to have those thighs, either.” When Minho shot him a curious glance, Changbin added, “I might have watched you for a couple of minutes before you finished.”

Minho bit back a joke about his head in the background of pictures not being the only creepy thing about Changbin. He was tired, from dancing and of fighting, and Jisung’s text was enough to give him hope that he could feel a similar closeness with Changbin that Hoyoung would soon feel with Joowon. He just had to tread lightly, had to learn Changbin’s edges. 

“Do you come here often?”

This time, it was Changbin’s turn to look curious. Minho buried his face in his hands, unsure of how they could both trade bickering for  _ flirting _ quite so accidentally. “You know what I mean.”

“Not as much since filming started, but when I’m in between jobs, yeah, like at least five days a week.”

“Damn.” Minho swiped his damp bangs back from his face. “I guess I don’t really know very much about you, actually. Shoulders are new, training routine is new.”  

“You being a dancer is new. Wait—didn’t you play Bae Minseok, who, you know, famously couldn’t dance, and the female lead had to teach him how for that company party in episode 5?”

Trapped between feeling flattered that Changbin knew his work and feeling that creeping sense of insecurity that he, too, knew just how out of water Minho was, he stretched his legs out in front of him, almost reaching Changbin, and knocked his sneakers together. “Yeah, it’s actually easier to make it look convincingly bad if you know what it should look like when it’s good. I’m not formally trained, though. I just dance for fun, when I have the time to.” 

“So those aren’t dancer’s thighs.” Changbin openly stared. “We might see each other in the weight room, then, unless you come to the gym specifically to avoid me.”

“No, I come here to avoid myself. My own overthinking brain. Maybe it would be even easier to do that if you were here,” Minho confessed. “I could focus on your shoulders instead of every line I fucked up that day.”

“You don’t fuck up any lines, ever. And wow, you really do have a shoulder thing, don’t you?”

Minho waved a hand in front of him, unwilling to confirm or deny. “We need to institute a new rule: revelations from the gym stay at the gym.”

“You don’t have a shoulder thing, you definitely can’t dance, and your thighs are matchsticks, got it.”

“And you definitely don’t have boulders for shoulders hiding under your baggy clothes, you don’t flirt with me when you’re not mad at me, and you don’t have all of my previous roles memorized, got it.”

“How did you manage to make all of that about you, Lee Egomaniac? You’re supposed to compliment me like I did for you.”

“That secret stays in the gym, too. When I seem caring and empathetic on set, act none-the-wiser. Only you will know the real me.”

Though still playful, Changbin seemed to come to a decision. “Let’s make it a routine, then. At least once a week, we come here. Monday nights.”

Minho took a deep breath, room to breathe now that a weight lifted from around them both. He nodded, unsure how they got here, but relieved that they did. 

***

_ #ExerciseKids #ShouldersAndThighs #WhoNeedsATrainerWhenYouHaveHyung _

Minho stood behind Changbin, mesmerized, as he watched him add the tags he was only used to reading through his own phone screen. The selfie, he realized, was the only one they’d ever taken where they both looked at the camera, on purpose, for the sake of taking a picture together. Minho was behind Changbin, just like they were standing now except with his chin resting on his shoulder, Minho crouched down to reach. They both sported smiles, Minho’s somewhere between his usual and the one he reserved for his fans, Changbin’s with a scrunch that Minho realized over the last couple of weeks he’s likely to do in equal parts when he wants to act cute and when he wants to act annoyed. 

And it was an act, Minho was almost sure of it now. They ribbed each other constantly; the careful dance around any topic that might cause Changbin to snap, the one that Minho did the first night they met at the gym, was quickly forgotten. Luckily, all the heat was gone even still. They still fought over who was the most creepy, now not just for pictures but also the glances towards exposed arms and legs at the end of a long day; they fought over technique and reps and lyrics to a song Minho was sure he knew every word to. 

“We’d look cuter if you put a filter over that,” Minho noted once Changbin finally finished his extensive posting routine. 

“Who says bare faced and sweaty isn’t cute, Lee Minho?”

“Says the one who has to stare at your face literally all day long.”

Minho was happy the gym gave them some kind of even footing because now their filming was almost exclusively scenes together, with Joowon becoming the only person Hoyoung could trust; they were partners. 

Minho and Changbin weren’t exactly their characters’ clones, but they were finding a way to understand each other. 

Like the smile Changbin just gave him was one he always used whenever Minho referenced his appearance. Changbin didn’t like this kind of teasing, Minho could tell, but he was too slow to remember what exactly his reaction looked like until he’d already induced it again. It was the moments when Changbin’s eyes went wide with shyness, so unlike the brash shameless he often expressed when he sang loudly or danced ridiculously or challenged Minho to a squat challenge he knew he’d lose that Minho remembered most. It was then that Changbin was boyishly cute, like they were a decade younger. 

But this was an altogether different look. Minho understood Changbin’s limit once he hit it, and he knew to change course. He hoped the longer they spent together, the better he’d become at braking sooner. 

“I keep meaning to tell you this, but Jisung told me about you helping to get Hwang Hyunjin signed with him. He said it’s going well so far.” He was taking it easy tonight after a 5am wake-up call, and the light weight curling up his chest allowed him to carry on a conversation without having to decide between following Changbin’s responses and processing only the ringing in his ears. 

“Yeah, his last agent kept booking him modeling gigs and discouraging him from acting even though he was working so hard to improve. I can’t imagine being that disrespected by someone whose sole job it is to help me succeed. I would have fired him on the spot, if I was Hyunjin, but the asshole’s too nice.”

“You’re nice, too,” Minho replied for no other reason than he’d recently discovered it to be true. Changbin joked with him constantly, but he was always quick to praise Minho, much like he had when he’d met with Jisung. Used to brushing off a current accomplishment in favor of looking forward to the next hurdle, Minho never knew much what to say when compliments rolled from Changbin so easily. First it was in the safe space of the weight room, but it didn’t stay confined there, like they’d both promised it would. 

_ How do you do that—you just gave me goosebumps _ , he’d whispered just earlier that day while they filmed a scene with Minkyun. Minho had blushed to the tips of his ears. 

“In general, yes. When I feel like I’m or someone I love is being fucked with? No.”

“Like when you thought I was fucking with you? After we first met?”

Changbin nodded. “Exactly.” 

Minho wanted to know more, precisely what Changbin thought of him in those first couple of weeks, when he uploaded the first picture, what he thinks of him now, but he bit back that eagerness. 

“I’m sure Hyunjin appreciates his boyfriend having his back like that,” he said instead. 

“Pfft, Hyunjin wishes,” Changbin replied as he laid back on his weight bench. “He’s still grateful, but to his best friend, not his boyfriend. Jisung said you two are close, too, right? We should all have dinner sometime since I spend too much of my day looking at just your face. I need some variety.”

Minho resumed his dutiful place behind the bench, ready to help if Changbin were to need it. Changbin looked up at him, head upside down. 

“We both know that’s a lie,” Minho said, just like his earlier quip about Changbin’s bare faced needing a filter was a lie, “but I’ll allow it. I’ll text Jisung; you text Hyunjin.”

Changbin rolled his eyes, but he grinned. A combination Minho was becoming more familiar with, like that of sweat and exertion, of laughter and lopsided smiles. 

***

“I figured we’d just go out for beers, hyung. This place is nice,” Changbin commented over the top of his menu. There were white table cloths under their plates, which never quite made sense to Minho. Maybe the fancier a restaurant was the more it was assumed you would never, ever, under any circumstances make a mess. Water was served in fluted glasses, and there were more forks laid out before him than he knew what to do with. 

“You all have work tomorrow,” Jisung responded. “You’re not getting drunk and eating shitty, fried food that’ll show all over your skin in the morning.”

Hyunjin brought his hand to his forehead and saluted. “Yes, sir.” The only way Minho could think to describe the laugh that materialized out of his own joke was to call it a  _ giggle _ . Hyunjin’s eyes became crescents as his cheeks pulled up and his teeth stretched wide. He was alarmingly cute. Not handsome in the way that Minho often thought Changbin was handsome, hat pulled down low and eyes concentrating at the gym, but  _ cute _ , like a puppy. 

And Minho could see his best friend’s attention turn to Hyunjin, literally, as he angled his body toward his left and as he spent more time glancing at his new client than at his menu. He didn’t know how much time they’d spent together before tonight, but Minho did know just how much communication was necessary for a new client, especially one who had been so sorely misrepresented in the past. They looked comfortable, giddy even.

Minho would have to ask Jisung about that later. If he was allowed to have business crushes. Maybe being an agent wasn’t that different from being an actor: if you spend all day convincing someone how talented a person is, helping them and watching them succeed, you’d probably feel, too, that they were more mesmerizing than everyone else in the room. Minho still wondered if there was some talent agent ethics code, and when Hyunjin giggled at a Jisung-joke that definitely wasn’t funny, he pulled out his phone to set himself a reminder to talk to Jisung about this tonight. 

“Are we boring you that much?” Changbin whispered from their side of the table. 

“Always, technically.” Minho slipped his phone back into his pocket. “But no, not at the moment.”

It took Minho only a few moments to decide on his dinner. Grilled fish and vegetables would satisfy Jisung’s want for being here rather than at a bar. 

Changbin seemed to notice that he was bobbing his leg up and down while impatiently waiting for the waiter to return. With Hyunjin and Jisung still engrossed in each other, Changbin spoke to the space in between their chairs. 

“How did you and Jisung meet? I don’t think I’ve ever asked you.”

“That’s because you only ask me how much my thighs can lift.”

Minho’s chair suddenly had two legs instead of four, and in fear that Changbin would tip him onto the floor, he screeched, catching the attention of their table and the next. 

Changbin lowered him, glued a too-stiff smile onto his face, and asked the question again, this time to Jisung, in a tone that could rival Siyeon’s in its saccharine sweetness. 

“It’s not really an interesting story. We met in college. Group project where I assumed I’d hate everyone because I usually have to do all the work, but hyung and I matched really well. We hung out without the other group members to finish the project.”

“I still made him do all the work,” Minho added proudly. “But he was blinded by his love for me, he didn’t even notice.”

“And now I’m  _ still _ doing all the work for you. I manage your whole life.”

“It’s because you  _ love _ me.”

“You keep saying that but I haven’t said a word.”

Despite Jisung not having said anything particularly witty, Hyunjin’s giggles cut off Minho’s retort. He watched as Jisung fought off a smile at the corners of his lips.

“Anyway, I’m more interested in you—in you all. How did you meet Changbin?” he asked.

“Changbinnie hyung was in the band for a musical we did in college.” 

“Oh, Minho did musicals too!” Jisung added, and for some reason, Minho felt embarrassed by that. Like his father was boasting about his insignificant accomplishments. 

Changbin turned to him. “Ah, the dancing is starting to make more sense.”

“Ah, your shitty opinions on every band on earth are starting to make sense,” Minho bit back quickly. He was ready to fire back to whatever was about to come out of Changbin’s mouth, but Hyunjin spoke first. 

“Wait, Changbin hyung can also dance. He used to help me with sequencing!”

“And hyung, you think pop punk bands from the early 2000s are the only form of good music. Do you really have room to talk?”

“Where the hell is the waiter?” Minho grumbled instead of acknowledging that fact. 

Changbin, too, redirected: “Jisung, I hope you didn’t have to fight for a reservation for this place. The service could be better.”

He took a sip of water.

Minho stared at the ceiling.

Jisung and Hyunjin made no attempt to stifle their laughter.

***

The time it took for the food to come was expansive enough for Minho to learn more about his co-star: he had an older sister, he wrote an OST for his last drama, he let his dongsaengs joke all they wanted without penalty. The glares he sent to the other side of the table were passing, and he never verbalized any annoyance no matter how far they pushed. 

Minho wondered what their dynamic would have been like if he was Jisung’s age; Minho wondered how much of Changbin’s life he could have learned if he had simply asked. 

He got to know Hyunjin better, too. He wasn’t just giggles and compliments; the passion he felt toward his craft was evident in the way he described working with Jisung to pick the right auditions, the perfect scripts. He wasn’t unlike Minho in his want to choose roles where he wasn’t known only known for his appearance. It had taken Minho years to come to that realization, but Hyunjin knew it from the start. 

He better understood Changbin’s protectiveness, Jisung’s endearment. 

When the food finally did arrive, the conversation quieted down in favor of sighs and smacks and reneged complaints about the restaurant. 

“I’m so full,” Changbin whined with a hand on his belly. 

“Really?” Minho asked with a heavy arm dropped onto Changbin’s middle. The groan that ensued, he ignored. ’I thought we were going to the gym after this?” 

“You two are meatheads,” Jisung teased. “What would the fans in your comment sections who call you soft, flirting boyfriends think if they saw your training schedule?”

“First, those things aren’t mutually exclusive and second, flirting?”

“Boyfriends? I think I’m going to throw up.” Changbin dropped his head to the table. 

Minho flicked his ear. “Hey, fuck you, you’d be  _ honored _ to date me.”

“I’d be honored if the waiter brought the damn check already.”

Eventually, the check did come, and when the bill and their stomachs—fake grumbling and real— were settled, they all headed out into the cool evening breeze. 

“I can drive everyone home,” Jisung offered. They’d all arrived separately: Minho by train, Changbin by taxi, and Hyunjin on foot. 

“My house is out of the way from here. I’m good. I think I’m just going to walk,” Minho replied. 

“Me, too, actually. Hyunjinnie, you ride with Jisung.”

Minho thought Hyunjin might protest, but Jisung reached for his arm, pulled him into his side, before he had the chance.

“Text me when you get home, hyung. Be careful.”

“He’s got me to protect him.” Minho mirrored Jisung’s movements by tucking Changbin under his arm.

Changbin looked up at him with an unimpressed stare. “I’m stronger than you.”

“I’m taller than you.”

“Why would that even matter?”

“I can see threats before you can. I can act quicker.” He pretended to chop at Changbin’s neck with his free hand. 

“You’re both hopeless,” Jisung concluded from the other side of the restaurant, where he and Hyunjin had started toward his car without Minho noticing. “Really do text us so we know you haven’t killed each other on the way home.”

Minho and Changbin both scoffed, perfectly in sync with each other. Like the snap of a clapboard, they both realized they were still standing with Minho’s arm wrapped around Changbin’s shoulders, Changbin pressed to Minho’s side. 

Changbin stepped away first, leaving several feet between them as they headed uptown. Changbin was the first to speak, too. 

“What’s your call time tomorrow?” 

The conversation that easily flowed from them in the gym seeming more and more impossible with each step; Minho knew this was as safe of a topic as any. 

“Seven in the morning, unfortunately. You?”

“Noon for me.” The delight in Changbin’s voice was evident. “You should have let Jisung just drive you home if you have to be up that early.”

Minho shook his head and raised his arms out from his side to feel the breeze rolling across his skin. “The weather’s nice, and I really did want to go to the gym tonight,if we hadn’t spent so long at the restaurant, so I’m counting this as cardio.”

“Cardio, hm?” 

“Yes, Changbin, cardio. Like I just said.”

With no other warning than the sound of his jacket rustling with the friction of his arms, Changbin broke into a sprint down the sidewalk, past the bars at the top of the hill and the convenience story that sold Minho’s favorite fruity candy. 

Minho watched him, listened to him, as a yell fueled him up the incline. He laughed at the youthfulness in his game but made no attempt to speed up his leisurely pace. 

When he reached the other side of the store, he caught up to Changbin, who stood with his hands on his hips, his breaths ragged. 

“You’re supposed to chase me, asshole,” he gasped out. “Cardio!”

“But who wants to go for a run after dinner, Seo Idiot?”

The small circles Minho rubbed into his back took the sting from his words. 

Changbin took a deep inhale and motioned for them to turn down a side road at Minho’s least favorite stop sign, where the decorative bushes obscured the cars coming from the left. 

“You really are the worst. I don’t know why I like you.”

“Oh, do you now?”

“Shut up. I mean I don’t hate you anymore.”

Minho figured this was as good of a time as any to breach the subject. They’d part soon if he were to fuck this up. He couldn’t bring himself to ask outright, though, so he asked Changbin to play a game.

“Like when I just tried to play a game by racing you up the hill? Why should I?”

“Like a twenty questions game. Where we both benefit.”

“We both could have benefited from the cardio,” Changbin mumbled before nodding. “I go first, though. Were you surprised I got cast for Joowon?”

Minho stuffed his hands in his pockets. He was ready to hear Changbin’s candid answers, but he wasn’t expecting to receive just as loaded of a question as the one he planned to ask.

“Honestly? Yeah. Our reading together was so much more tense than the other guys.  I thought they were looking for more of a close partnership in the audition.”

“The kitchen scene was from before Joowon agrees to help, though, so it kind of makes sense.” He didn’t sound upset at Minho’s answer, which Minho was thankful for. “We can play where you have to answer the question yourself before the other person gets to go, and I wasn’t surprised you got the role. You were earnest and passionate just like Hoyoung should be. I was happy to see you were cast.”

Minho kicked a rock on the lam from someone’s driveway. He was never good at taking compliments. More often than not, he agreed self importantly, like he’d never had any doubt at all that those kind words were true. That was easier than confronting the imposter syndrome crawling up his neck. 

“Your turn,” Changbin prompted, without asking for anything more.

“What was your first impression of me after the audition? Like of Minho, not Minho playing Hoyoung?”

“Mmmm,” he hummed, elbow bumping Minho from where it jutted out from the hand stuffed into his pocket. “I thought you didn’t like me at all and that you were a stuck up actor like all the other stuck up actors I’ve worked with. Every time I tried to talk to you, you brushed me off, and then the picture thing happened, and I thought you were mocking me, and yeah,” he trailed off. “You?”

“I was jealous of your confidence at first,” Minho admitted. This wasn’t the point of the game; maybe this was what he got for not running after Changbin up that hill. “in the audition. I was nervous, fuck, I’m still nervous, about this role, and you just seemed to know exactly what you were doing, and I felt like I was walking on land for the first time after being born at sea. So I kept my distance out of self preservation, I think. And then when the picture thing happened, I thought  _ you _ were making fun of  _ me _ , actually. Your caption mentioned me being pretty, and I thought you were implying I only got the role because of my face. Which, now you know, adds to that whole insecurity problem with this drama.”

“Hyung, I wasn’t—“

“You don’t have to explain, Changbin. I was seeing all of our interactions through my own bullshit. Shit colored glasses, if you will.”

“I will not,” Changbin replied with a chuckle. “For the record, I was actually just amazed by how attractive you were. Like I’d seen your stuff, but in person…” He took a breath and Minho held his. “You ended up being in the background of the picture by accident and then when I noticed, I figured I had to address it or all of my mentions would just be focused on that. And your…” He motioned with his hands in front of Minho’s face. “…was all I could think about. And for the second record, I was probably viewing you through my own bullshit glasses or whatever dumb shit you just said. I’ll never not be insecure about my own looks, so when you walk in looking like…that…and then I thought you blow me off. You can see how I got from point A to point B.”

“Wait.” Minho grabbed Changbin’s elbow and pulled him to a stop. They were only a few driveways away from Minho’s house. He had no idea where Changbin even lived. “I know I’ve said stupid shit in the past because I always imagine you as that confident guy who walked into the audition, and we’re always just joking around, but I should be more clear: You’re good looking, like, I’ve never gotten through a single session at the gym without thinking about how good you look when you’re concentrating or laughing or pouting at something I said.”

“So you only think I’m hot at the gym, huh? Jisung was right. You  _ are _ a meathead,” Changbin joked, but his eyes were shy. 

Minho was thankful for the street lights on his road, for they ignited that which was already so bright before him.

“That was just an example, shut up. And that counts as your next question. Now you have to answer. Do you think I’m hot at the gym?”

“I just talked for five minutes about your face, that was a waste of a question Lee Minho.”

Minho shook his head in defeating, wanting to hear Changbin wax poetic about just what he found attractive about him but unwilling to ask. He wanted to know something else. “This is me, but I want one more question before you leave.” 

Changbin nodded just once, an easy smile across his lips. He wasn’t shy or overcompensating with confidence bathed in this soft orange of the streetlight. He looked only content. 

“Can I have your number?”

“I hate how smooth that was, but I’ll allow it. Sure.”

***

**Lee Minho:** **  
** One last question

**Seo Changbin:**   
It’s my turn though ):

**Lee Minho:** **  
** Fine, you first >:|

**Seo Changbin:** **  
** If I were to apologize for making a snap judgment about you and wasting so much time being annoyed with you, would you forgive me?

**Lee Minho:** **  
** Only if you acknowledge that I still plan to annoy you daily, just, less asshole-y

**Seo Changbin:** ****  
How is it you were more serious in person when it was more embarrassing to talk about this. Deal. And I forgive you too, even if you weren’t going to say it   
Now what’s your question

**Lee Minho:** **  
** If I asked you to hang out again outside of the gym or filming. Just the two of us. Would you say yes?

**Seo Changbin:** **  
** Yes.

***

**Lee Minho:** **  
** Theoretically, if you and Hyunjin dated, would that be a breach of some contract 

**Han Jisung:** **  
** Theoretically and technically, no. But it would be stupid. 

**Lee Minho:** **  
** You’re the stupidest person I know, and you clearly like him

**Han Jisung:** ****  
I don’t plan to cross from professional to personal (outside of group hang outs like we had tonight) unless he makes the first move   
And if that were to happen, I’d let him out of his contract    
As much as I might be interested in him, if I let myself, I don’t really want that to happen   
I mean, I don’t want him to think me not working with him means he’s not good enough   
Or something

**Lee Minho:** **  
** If he knew the only reason you were referring him to someone else would be because you wanted to date him, I’m sure he’d understand 

**Han Jisung:** ****  
Either way, I don’t want that to happen anytime soon    
He deserves to know he’s supported and that people believe in him    
I don’t want to jeopardize that 

**Lee Minho:** **  
** You’re a good man, Charlie Brown

**Han Jisung:** **  
** Why do I talk to you about serious stuff 

**Lee Minho:**   
Because you love me

**Han Jisung:** ****  
I do.    
Stupidly.

**Lee Minho:** **  
** For the record, if you two get closer, and you’re stuck in that decision, make sure you tell him. Don’t make the decision for him. He has the right to know why you might hold back and how you could both move forward 

**Han Jisung:** ****  
Ah, sometimes you are the hyung   
I love you~~~~

**Lee Minho:** ****  
:]   
I love you too, nerd

***

There wasn’t much time to consider where they might hang out or what they might do when the longest filming days yet prevented Minho and Changbin from even getting to the gym on some nights. The drama was to premiere in a week, and the principal photography, if they all stayed on schedule, was to be finished in just a few more months. 

It didn’t seem like an entire six months had passed since his first day on set. He wasn’t perfectly satisfied, he probably never would be, but Nayoung asking him to try his lines with a different tone or Siyeon breaking character in a scene fewer times than he did no longer sent Minho to the edge of panic that screamed he was the fraud who would ruin this show for them all. 

It helped that he had Changbin by his side. When they filmed together, which was most days, Changbin was never forgetful in letting Minho know that he was doing well. Now that he knew Changbin’s confidence was sometimes just as much of a mask as his own, and even though vocalizing didn’t come as naturally for him, Minho tried to be the same anchor of support for his costar: a hand on Changbin’s shoulder as Nayoung directed them, grabbing an extra helping of the beef he knew Changbin liked best when they ate together for lunch, saving Changbin’s favorite bench when he arrived at the gym first. Even still, he wanted to make his feelings more known, leave less room for the miscommunications that started this mess—their mess—in the first place. 

“You’re the only person I know who can do that,” he confessed, back to Hoyoung’s couch, bare feet tucked underneath his thighs. Most of their shots were in courtrooms and classrooms now, but every now and again they were back in Hoyoung’s apartment, crowded around his coffee table, working through the night. 

“You must know exactly two people, and Jisung isn’t an actor.” Changbin wore Joowon’s pajamas, blue and silk and draped across the muscles Minho was never disappointed to notice. 

“I know, at least, every single person in this building right now, fifty percent of which are actors, you dummy. I mean it. You can act like a baby point-two seconds before she yells action and then you’re immediately radiating tension. You give me whiplash.” He picked at the takeout noodles sitting on the table between them, found a piece of beef, and held it to Changbin’s lips. He took it without question. “And I was watching the behind the scenes of  _ Maybe Later _ and you did it then, too.”

Changbin stared at him, still chewing. “Are you getting obsessed with me, Lee Minho?”

“What? No, Seo Delusional. I was doing research. I’m very dedicated to my craft.” He fed Changbin again, this time a piece of chicken.

“Halfway into filming a tv show and you’re just now doing research? Sure you weren’t just hanging out at home, missing me? You can just text me next time, you know.”

“In your dreams.”

“In my reality, right here, in front of me.”

So maybe his attempts at genuine compliments were thrown back at him with sarcastic flirting. So maybe he didn’t care. So maybe he liked it. So maybe Changbin was right. 

It ended up being Changbin who did the texting the next time they talked outside of work or the gym. It was a Friday night, past midnight, and Woojin was spread out in Minho’s bed with only an arm and a leg draped over him as a blanket. 

Minho was spent—from work, from the gym, from Woojin—and he had no desire to move when his phone buzzed from his nightstand. By the third notification, Woojin was reaching across him to grab it himself.

“Yah.” He poked Minho’s bare back. “Seo Changbin is texting you.”

Minho darted up, head spinning—from the exhaustion, from the movement, from both Woojin and Changbin existing in his brain at the same time. “Let me see.” He snatched his phone from his hyung’s hands, and Woojin, god bless him, didn’t say a word. 

**Seo Changbin:** ****  
I know it’s late   
And you had an early call time this morning   
But I can’t sleep   
And we’re not starting until late tomorrow   
And I’m starving   
Do you want to get some ramen with me? The convenience story is open until 3am

Minho sat staring at his phone. He didn’t move to say yes or no or to explain that he just hooked up with one of his closest friends. 

“Is everything okay?” Woojin finally asked. 

“Technically, yes. Still kind of no,” Minho said at his phone. He thought if he tore his eyes away from the texts maybe they’d no longer exist, maybe Changbin wouldn’t have asked him on a late night date. 

And this wasn’t a cheesy scene in a romance drama: they both knew what that invitation meant. There was no second guessing except for the warmth up against his legs. 

“Changbin’s the second lead, right? The one you post pictures with on Instagram?”

Minho nodded, and wanting nothing more than to take his own advice—to not make a decision for the both of them—looked up. Woojin’s hand came to his knee, soft and strong. 

“We’ve gotten closer over the past couple of months, and I think he just asked me out, kind of. Not a serious, thought-out first date, but it’ll be the first time we’ve hung out alone outside of the gym.”

“And at 1 in the morning. Good thing your refractory period is short.”

Minho grabbed his pillow and slung it at Woojin’s face. “Shut up. He asked to eat  _ ramen _ .” He brought the pillow against his chest once it had inflicted enough damage. “I think I could like him, and I haven’t even wanted to try in years. I always content with…”

“Work and this?” Woojin finished. He squeezed Minho’s knee. “It’s okay to change your mind.”

“This is a lot of change at once, though. Career is going in a new direction, adding a relationship on top of that would be really overwhelming.”

“Maybe. Or maybe having someone you can lean on when you feel unsure of yourself could be nice. Jisung and I can only do so much. We know you best, but we don’t know what your everyday is like. Instead of getting close to him feeling overwhelming, it might just feel just…whelming…”

“You have such a way with words, Kim Woojin.”

“Wow, I’m ending this whole arrangement right here just because you’re  _ mean _ .”

“In that case, you would’ve broken it off years ago.” Minho smiled, gratitude and longing and worry all swirling in his gut. “Thank you. For always being there when I called.”

“I’ll still be here. Just, like, with my pants on and equipped with eight million embarrassing stories to tell your new boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Yet.”

“Yet.”

“Maybe ever if you don’t text him back. He’s probably losing his mind right now worrying that you rejected him.”

Minho snapped out of the haze produced by just how much he cared for his friend. “Fuck, you’re right”

**Lee Minho:** ****  
If Minkyun says a word about my puffy face tomorrow I’m blaming it on you   
Meet me at my driveway in fifteen minutes?   
We can walk there   
Cardio

***

In sweatpants and too-thin hoodies, with knuckles brushing and steps synchronized, they allowed the streetlights to guide them down Minho’s street. The silence of their stroll seemed apt for the lateness of the night, but Minho felt his shoulders relax when the Twice song blasting in the convenience store was heard a block away. 

Inside, it became clear Minho and Changbin weren’t the only two in need of a midnight snack. College students fumbled around the aisles, laughing loudly, and Minho, not for the first time, felt like in the twenty-seventh year of his life, when his career and his personal life were in states of great transition, he was reminded of what it meant to feel young. To dream of a new station, to lean into discomfort, to bicker immaturely and to develop a crush just as easily as breathing in the night air. 

“What are you going to have in yours?” Minho asked. Once he realized he could ask, Minho learned plenty of things about Changbin’s life over the past couple of months. Sometimes, they played twenty questions in between takes, in between reps. While he knew about his favorite movies and tv shows and childhood toys and his least favorite movies and tv shows and childhood fears, they never talked much about food. When craft services was on the menu each and every day, they thought it best not to remind themselves of greener pastures. 

“Ham and green onions.” Changbin added in each ingredient as he spoke. 

Once the boiling water was poured and the lids lowered, they found seats in the back of the shop next to the aisle of crunchy chips the college students always swarmed. 

Minho detailed his perfect ramen recipe while they waited for the noodles to soften: an egg, half a sausage, only a small amount of onions, and cheese. 

“Oh, that reminds me!” Changbin hopped up excitedly, and Minho stifled the look of admiration he knew was plastered across his face. 

When he returned, a slice of cheese was added to the top of the bowl and left to melt. 

“Wait,” Minho said. “You said you were lactose intolerant. The cheese effect, remember?”

Changbin smiled sheepishly, like when Minho complimented him and he didn’t have a response prepared. Why dairy was a matter of embarrassment, he wasn’t sure. 

“It was a figurative intolerance. Like I couldn’t tolerate your cheesiness. Or  _ bitchiness _ .Or something.” Changbin stared down at his cup. “But no, I’m not intolerant to it.” His eyes flickered up. “Or you.”

“So now you realize that having me in your life makes everything better?” Minho couldn’t help but to smile, couldn’t force his lips back over his teeth if he wanted to. Not when Changbin was using the dumbest metaphor he’d ever heard to confess to him. 

“I’m starting to,” Changbin replied sincerely. “Now you have to answer, too, remember?”

The joke and the game and the ramen were forgotten as Minho, for the first time, felt Changbin’s fingers laced together with his own.

“Me, too.” They both squeezed, right at the same time, palms pulled together, heart beats pulsing where their fingers met. “More than you know, Seo Changbin.”

***

“And with the sip of this champagne, you’re all free to get as drunk and stay out as late as you want tonight. That’s a wrap!” 

Every glass in the reception hall was raised to Lee Nayoung, the heart of _ For Today and Tomorrow _ . Almost an entire year after Minho told Jisung that  _ this _ was the role, the director, the drama, that this was what he wanted to be doing with his life and his career, he stood proudly in front of who he was grateful to call a mentor, surrounded by men and women and kids he was lucky to call his friends, and beside Seo Changbin, who he couldn’t believe was stupid enough to agree to be his boyfriend. 

The one role where Lee Minho didn’t have a romance, he fell in love. 

***

Jisung sent him the screenshots just five minutes after they got home.  _ You’re grosser than me and Hyunjin will ever be _ the text read. Minho settled into his couch, waiting for Maple to jump into his lap. 

It was Changbin who fell atop his thighs instead. 

They both peered at Minho’s phone screen, at the pictures Jisung sent them. The first was  a selfie Changbin had taken at the wrap party, screenshot ted from his Instagram. Minho thought that no camera could capture exactly what he saw when Changbin opened his door that night in a fitted blazer and tie, but that didn’t seem to matter, nor did it make any difference that Changbin was sitting in his lap now, arms wrapped around his neck. The selfie still caused his stomach to jump into his chest. 

He was almost too distracted by his boyfriend to notice his own side profile in the background  at the rightmost edge of the photo. He buried his face into Changbin’s neck, abandoning his phone to squeeze him around the middle.

He knew the second photo showed the only other picture they’d uploaded that night, one that Siyeon demanded to take, of them half-smiling, half-kissing. The tags read #TheCheeseEffect #ILoveYou #ILoveYouForTodayAndTomorrow. 

Minho figured he had no need to look at an image of them kissing from two hours ago when he could kiss his boyfriend now.

And so he did. 

***

 

**Author's Note:**

> <3 <3 <3 <3 
> 
> Thank you for reading! My last minbin au was very much canon adjacent with rapping and dancing, so I am curious to hear what you all think of my favorite boys in this universe! Your comments are always appreciated, and I can't wait to see your thoughts!
> 
> Scream with me about skz? [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/leemiknow) [curious cat](http://www.curiouscat.me/staykid) [tumblr](http://www.indifferentyoongi.tumblr.com)
> 
> Until next time~~~


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